Till the sunrise
by I-love-u-long-time
Summary: For years people have described Arthur as being unimaginative. They have said it to his face, but did they ever stop to ask, even think of how he'd lost the will to create his own world? Arthur/OC


**This here is my first Inception story, I've only seen the whole movie fully two or three times so I may have gotten a few things wrong. So, we all know that Arthur isn't the most imaginative guy in Inception, but it was never explained why he was that way, sure it's probably just the way he is, but what if he isn't by his own choice? Well, while watching the movie again I thought of this. The love interest ins't ever named in this, but I'm planning on making a series of one shots with her and Arthur, and I decided on naming her Ana (FYI pronounced Arna)  
>Please review, let me know what you like, what you don't like, whatever you think of it. Constructive criticism only, no flaming please! There's really no need for it<strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Inception, everything belongs to the genius Christopher Nolan, Ana and the storyline however are all mine**

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><p>For years people have described Arthur as being unimaginative, at times perhaps even too logical and business oriented for his own good, true, over the years he'd continued to lose the little imagination he had to begin with. People have said it to his face, but did they ever stop to ask, even think of how he'd lost the will to create his own world, not that he'd tell them of course, the only people he'd speak of it with were those he trusted completely, and even then he would only mention certain parts, keeping the more intimate or personal instances to himself. If they were close enough they would have most likely worked it out from what he'd told them and left it at that, never to be brought up again unless circumstances called upon them. To anyone else, he would simply refuse to answer; <em>"That is strictly on a need to know basis."<em> Never saying anything more as he went back to the task at hand.

She stands at the windows with her back to him, her full attention fixed upon the lit up night street. He crosses through the hotel room he would take her to for her birthday, needing to desperately hold her in his arms again, his footsteps silenced by the soft carpet. This world, though the scene of his trauma, is one of the few places he is even remotely happy, his dreams, when he can see her, or at least his projection of her. The one place he can show his true emotions, instead of hiding them beneath his otherwise stoic demeanour.

She hears him before she sees him. Her head snaps back at the sound of a fallen glass shattering beneath his foot. She was smiling; that incomparably beautiful smile that never ceases to make his heart stop. That is what breaks him. Knowing that she can never change a single thing about herself, for the wrong reason. That he will grow old and weary, while she keeps her youthful beauty, for the wrong reason. That she has the ability to have the steady beat of his chest come to a sudden halt, but hers has come to its end far too soon, for the wrong reason. But none of it could ever compare to the torturous ache from the knowledge that if he had stayed with her one minute longer she would still be alive. Like someone has reached into his chest and savagely ripped his heart to shreds.

His eyes are damp and before he knows it, two lone tears slip through the jagged cracks, breaking through his determined attempts to control them.  
>She moves across the room to where he is standing,<br>"Why are you crying?" she coos, her voice soothing as she cradles his face with delicate hands. Why is he crying? He wants her to know everything. That for the first time in a year his heart is being tragically torn, becoming more excruciating with each minute. He wants her to know that he blames no one else but himself for her death. But through his tightening throat, beneath his unravelling calm exterior, he can't find his voice.

He stares down at her, regret seeping through him when he sees her pained smile, and eventually finds the strength to choke on three small words. "I miss you."  
>She shushes him, lightly pressing her cold lips to his cheek, a weak tear threatening to drip from her eye as she pulls away.<br>"I miss you . . . " his words are more wrenched this time. "I'm sorry."  
>She recoils within herself, turns her back to him, but unable to remove his arms. She rasps out short, crushed breaths as she sinks back into him, shutting her eyes at the feel of his grasp closing around her.<br>"It wasn't your fault," she can feel the air gushing from her lungs as she collapses in on herself, feeling a new wave of misery wash over her, a stronger sensation than what she is used to, if Arthur had not been holding her she would have doubled over in a second, and she clasps her arms around herself.  
>"If I had known they were there . . . " he states in cold hurt,<br>"But you didn't, it wasn't your fault, Arthur."

For a few moments neither speaks, unable to make any sound other than harsh breaths or jerky sniffs, until her tears subside into a controlled rhythm. Then she pulls away, and turns to him. Her face still the unnatural beauty he believes her to be, no pink swelling around her eyes, no mucus, no signs that she has been crying less than half a minute ago. But she exposes the straining devastation enveloping her.  
>"You have to let me go."<br>He hesitates, hoping that he has heard her incorrectly, or that he has only heard the worst of his subconscious taunting him, though he is proven wrong when she repeats herself.  
>"You have to let me go, Arthur. You have to."<p>

He struggles to stay standing, but somehow he manages to keep his balance as the remnants of his chest tear apart once more. His throat chokes on his words, either way he forces them out, "I can't – Don't say that! I can't. I can't!"  
>"Please. You can't keep living like this, you'll only hurt yourself. I can't watch you destroy yourself over me . . . All I am is bone in a box."<p>

He tries to step towards her, but she holds up her hands in protest,  
>"I can't live without you," he chides in low voice, watching as she sadly shakes her head, new tears sliding down her cheeks.<br>"You already are." Her voice is a mere shadow of a whisper, "But we can be together again, we will be. You have your whole life to live, don't waste it, don't destroy yourself because of me. Let me go, live your life to your full capabilities. And when the time comes we'll be together. Forever."

He slowly nods, barely moving his head, no longer feeling his heart beating. She reaches down to grab a gun he had been too absorbed to notice, muttering to herself as she looks down at its cold black chamber, "Pain is in the mind, but death . . . death only wakes you up."

He realises what she means, though before he has a chance to stop her, she has the pistol raised, aimed at the middle of his forehead. The she fires, but not before a mournful goodbye, speaking just above a breath.  
>"Don't come back . . . I love you."<p> 


End file.
